So as most of you know Beautiful Nightmares is going up tonight and should be available for purchase sometime tomorrow!

So for all of you who have been patiently waiting...Thank you!

I'm so excited to share this teaser with you and I hope you enjoy it.

There are times where I think that
the quiet solitude of darkness can be a comfort. It can cover you like a newly
knitted quilt, swaddling you in a cocoon of serenity. It can banish the dark
thoughts in your mind. Make you feel safe. Make you feel warm.

Now is not one of those times.

I wake with the soft caress of
slumber still clouding my mind. The land of dreams beckons, threatening to pull
me back into its’ realm. It’s like an annoying voice lingering in the darkened
portions of my brain, a haunting echo that I can’t let go of. My eyes snap
open. I refuse to let sleep consume me anymore.

My room is midnight black, minus the
shimmering stars, and I squint, trying to get a clear picture of my
surroundings. The opaque black is thick and overpowering, like a cement barrier
of smog and it doesn’t matter how much time I give my eyes to adjust. I still
can’t see a damn thing.

I whisper his name into the
darkness, “Elijah.” Fanning my fingers out across the sheets to lace my fingers
through his. “Elijah are you awake, love?”

Silence.

I glide my fingers further along the
soft cushioned mattress and shiver when the cold from the sheets seeps through
my skin. “Elijah?”

Still no answer.

Panic begins to work its way through
my body.

My heart thunders in my chest.

My pulse races.

Sweat trickles down my temples.

With force and quick reflexes, I rip
my sheets from the bed and scream. “Elijah! Elijah, where are you?” My fingers
once again brush across the cold, bare spot next to me and my screams escalate
to shrieks. “Elijah! Elijah, where are you? Where did you go?”

The door to my room flings open. It
lets out a loud bang as it crashes into the wall. A soft light filters into the
room and all I see is white. White walls. White floors. White sheets. A young
woman dressed from head to toe in a cotton periwinkle ensemble rushes toward
me. All of her blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a bun.

“Where is he?” I cry, choking on a
sob stuck in my throat. “Where is my Elijah?”

“Hush, now.” The young woman has a
slick yet soothing voice. “You don’t need to worry about such things, Adelaide.
You need your rest.” She eases me back into a lying down position and smoothes
my hair back away from my face.

“Just tell me where he went,” I
plead. “Please.”

This woman doesn’t understand how
much I love Elijah. How he is like the sun on the horizon to me. Without him,
it’s like gazing into the night sky without the stars and the moon. Empty and
devoid of beauty and awe. “Can’t you please tell me where he went?” I ask, a
hint of hopefulness in my voice.

“No,” she says flatly, pulling the
sheets up over my chest.

“Why not?” I don’t understand this
cruelty. This woman has to know where he is. She just has to. And how could she
keep his whereabouts from me? Can’t she see his absence is tearing me apart?

Alas, I am only one person. I have three jobs and there isn't enough time in the day for me to stay on top of everything sometimes.

I got a little overwhelmed. I set unrealistic deadlines and I needed a break to preserve my own sanity trying to juggle everything. As most of you know, I write A LOT. Maybe a little too much. My books usually come out really close together and after thinking about this I decided that I will not release any of my future novels right on top of each other.

I needed to take a breather so I did. Now I'm back and feeling much better.

Beautiful Nightmares is my first priority right now. There were lots of things wrong. It wasn't just minor stuff. Paragraph's ended up missing, words were out of place, etc. I'm going to have an editor read through it just to be sure it's good as far as that goes and I'll say with certainty that it will be up by December 26,2012.

Once again I'm so, so, sorry for the delay. I know it's wrong to keep everyone waiting, but I had a lot going on at once and found myself unable to think clearly involving the release. I did not want to put a error-filled book just to please everyone. So I'm really and truly sorry for the delay.

13 Rounds and Yelling Out Loud. I get a lot of messages regarding these books. 13 Rounds is the second book I'll be focusing on and I'll have that one out by the end of January. I'll post the definite date soon and Yelling Out Loud most likely won't be released until Feb or March.

I have learned that I need to focus on one book at a time so I don't drive myself crazy, so that is what I'm going to do.

I hope you all understand. Thank you so much for your passion, devotion, and for loving my books so much. I appreciate it fully and whole-heartedly and I know that I'd be nothing without you. And finally, once again, I'm sorry.

Secondly, I have an announcement involving Beautiful Nightmares and sadly, most of you will be disappointed by it being that the release date is being moved back. This is out of my control. I do not have the final cover images yet and as most of you know the book is being released as a bundle paperback as well and I do not want to separate the releases of the paperback and eBook. So it will not be coming out until next Saturday....

However if you are waiting for the paperback... All three books will be included in the bundle, Insanity, White Walls, and Beautiful Nightmares along with the bonus scenes.

Honestly, this is my first bundle release for paperback so it has been a little overwhelming and I appreciate all of the support from the fans who wanted a copy of the paperback as well as the eBook.

There's a special going on for the AWESOME YA Paranormal Romance Spectral by Shannon Duffy. If you haven't had a chance to pick this book up yet, you should. It's a steal at .99 cents and an epic, spell-binding read!

Also if you haven't had a chance to enter the My Super Sweet Sixteenth Century Giveaway please check out how to enter, here.

Now some news involving the Sociopath Diaries. Yelling Out Loud has been pushed back a few weeks. It will now be released in October. Honestly, I thought I could push it and have it out in September, but I couldn't. And plus, I don't want to rush it. And I don't want it to be sloppy. I know some of you will be disappointed by this, but trust me, it will be better in the long run if I don't rush this.

Finally. A lot of the fans of the asylum trilogy have been asking if the book is in fact going to be released in paperback and I'm excited to say that yes... it is. All of my novels that are trilogies will be released in bundles, meaning that they asylum trilogy will be three books in one when released in paperback. Like I said I intend on doing this with every book in my trilogies. And don't worry, the final book in the asylum trilogy is still on schedule. So you can without a doubt expect Beautiful Nightmares to be out on October 16, 2012.

On the precipice of her
sixteenth birthday, the last thing lone wolf Cat Crawford wants is an
extravagant gala thrown by her bubbly stepmother and well-meaning
father. So even though Cat knows the family’s trip to Florence, Italy,
is a peace offering, she embraces the magical city and all it offers.
But when her curiosity leads her to an unusual gypsy tent, she exits . .
. right into Renaissance Firenze.

Thrust into the
sixteenth century armed with only a backpack full of contraband future
items, Cat joins up with her ancestors, the sweet Alessandra and
protective Cipriano, and soon falls for the gorgeous aspiring artist
Lorenzo. But when the much-older Niccolo starts sniffing around, Cat
realizes that an unwanted birthday party is nothing compared to an
unwanted suitor full of creeptastic amore.

Can she find her way back to modern times before her Italian adventure turns into an Italian forever?

How to enter

You must be a follower of this blog. (Bonus points if you follow me on twitter as well.)

So... many of you have been patiently waiting on the releases of Yelling Out Loud (Whisper To A Scream 2) and Beautiful Nightmares(The final installment in the asylum trilogy). I assure you that I am currently working on both of these books and hope to have them completed soon. As of right now, YOL is scheduled for a September 30 release and BN is scheduled for October 16. The release date of YOL may change, but BN is solid. That date is not changing. Also, I've been thinking of ways of how I can give back to the readers. I try to think of creative ways to show my appreciation for all your passion and support for my books and I think I have found a brilliant way to show how much you support means to me. Inside of Beautiful Nightmares will be both of Aurora's novellas. There will be one at the beginning. One at the end. Also included will be two separate chapters, one written from Damien's point of view and one written from Elijah's after their first encounters with Adelaide. So I hope you enjoy them. And thank you, thank you, thank you, a million times over for your passion over my books and for your support. I am nearing the 50,000 books sold mark and I could not have done it without you!

Also, in honor of the upcoming release of the final installment in the asylum trilogy the price of Insanity and White Walls will be dropped for a limited time only.

Insanity will be .99 cents. And White Walls will be 1.99.

*Please note when reading that this series is written out of order and purposely done so. They are also NA titles, not YA titles so there are some scenes and situations that may not be suitable for readers under 16 years of age.

Yes, I know I know, I rarely do Saturday posts, but I wanted to give those of you who loved Insanity and White Walls something special.

Some teasers!

Yay again!!!

So here we go....

Here is a teaser for So Far Gone (Aurora O'Reilly 1)

The year is 1950
and I’ve just turned sixteen.

You know what that
means?

That means that
this glorious year, I’ll be introduced to society as a debutante. Something
that I’ve been dreading since my mother brought it up six months ago. During a
luncheon with a few of her women’s league friends I’d been picking at my salad,
when my mother first mentioned it. Then she patted my forearm. I smiled
politely, turned my head and scowled. Whether it was proper for a southern
belle or not, there was no way I was going to let Mabel O’Reilly, shove me into
some frilly, frou-frou dress and parade me around in front of society like a
poodle at a dog show.

I don’t want to be
a purebred

I’d rather be a
mutt.

“Aurora!” mother’s voice bleeds through the
pale pink walls of my bedroom. “I have a surprise for you!”

A bout of nausea
whips through my stomach when I realize she’s only a few feet away from my
bedroom. With frantic heart beats and trembling fingers, I slide open my window
at the exact same time my mother’s fist connects with the door. “Open up,
sweetheart!” Her voice has a light airy feel to it. She’s in a good mood. That’s
about to change in a minute.

I stare down at the
two story drop from my bedroom and tell myself that I’d rather jump out this
window than see what surprise my mother has in store for me. Even thought part
of me has a feeling that her surprise will be a puffy white dress that she’s
selected for me to wear to the Biloxi Debutante ball.

The door cracks
open revealing a sliver of my mother’s profile. I take that as my cue. Oh hell’s bells. I’d rather break both
my legs jumping out this window than try on that hideous dress. I plummet from
my window at the same time my mother says, “Aurora, darling, are you in here?”

My back slams into
the ground first, hard. My abrupt impact knocks the wind out of my lungs and I
choke out the breath lodged in my throat. I continue gasping, willing my lungs
to start working again.

I sit up, still in
a daze at the same time my mother pokes her head out my window. “Aurora, what
are you doing down there?” She holds a white dress up in the window and my eyes
widen.

My lips press into
a straight line. That dress is uglier and gaudier than I thought it would be. With
it’s poofy white sleeves, full ruffled skirt, and bodice adorned with little
gems and knick-knacks.

“Isn’t it lovely?”
mother gushes. A wide smile stretches on her full rosy lips. “Now come back
inside so I can see you in it.”

I hop to my feet.
“Sorry to disappoint you, mother.”

The smile falls
from her lips. “What?”

At that moment, I
take off running. I run fast, ignoring the burn in my lungs and the stiffness
in my joints.

“Aurora Jean!” mother shouts, her voice carrying
on the wind. “You get back here this instant!” I glance over my shoulder at my
mother’s whose body is tensed, a frown residing on her lips. “Just wait until
your father hears about this!”

Now, a teaser from Beautiful Nightmares!

There is nothing
but darkness.

It surrounds me.

Swallows me like a
boa constrictor desparate to have a meal in its’ belly.

But even though
it’s pitch black, I can hear him. His voice bleeds through the walls and I know
that I have to go to him. I have to go to him because I love him. I ache when
I’m not near him. And hearing the pain in his voice nearly cripples me.

Elijah sits at his
desk. He’s sobbing, his hands fisted through his locks of gold, his chest
heaving as he lets out another anguished cry. “Why, Adelaide?” he screams.
“Why?” He raises his head slowly, his beautiful golden eyes brimming with
tears, and he clenches his jaw. Suddenly the emotion in his features twists
from sorrow to rage. He stands. His face is red hot like the hearth of a fire
and in one swift motion he sweeps his arm along the length of his desk sending
all of the papers, folders, pens, and paper weights clattering to the floor. He
lets out another fierce anguished cry.

“Elijah, love.
What’s wrong?”

My question is met
silence.

“Tell me, my love,”
I press on. “What can I do to make it better?”

My words don’t seem
to ease his suffering at all. He begins pacing behind his desk, hands balled in
fists at his side. He stops mid-pace and in an abrupt reaction he picks up the
antique globe next to his desk and he chucks it with force into the wall. “Why
Adelaide?” he repeats his previous question and falls back into his chair in a
heap.

I’ve reached the point where I can no longer
hold back my tears and I rush to him, clinging to his arm and crying, “I can’t
take this. I can’t take seeing you like this, Elijah. Please. You’re breaking
my heart.” I’d give anything to take away his pain. I’d give anything to
whisper heartfelt words into his ear and let him know that everything will be
all right. That we will be all right.

On top of that I'm diligently working on Aurora's novella, So Far Gone, and hope to have that out by August 22.

Beautiful Nightmares is also coming together nicely.

I just wanted to take moment to highlight a few things. A lot of fans keep messaging about Infect Me, and Yelling Out Loud(A whisper to a scream 2) wanting to know when these novels are going to be released. I had originally planned for them to be released a while ago, but things happen. My personal life got in the way. So.... The release dates for both novels will be sometime in October. Both probably toward the end of the month being that they are both dark themed novels and my favorite holiday, Halloween, just so happens to be in October.

THEY WILL BE BOTH BE OUT SOMETIME IN OCTOBER. FOR SURE.

On another note, I'll also be writing a sequel to He Loves Me...He Loves You Not called She Loves Me...I Love Her and it will be written from Henry's POV. I am determined to redeem, Henry. DETERMINED.

There's also a milestone I need to celebrate. To date, I have been putting my books out for a year, and I have to thank all of the readers and fans who love the way I write and continue to spread the word about all of my novels. Because of you, I have sold over 28,000 copies of my books and I don't know how I can possibly thank you all enough.

You have made my dream of writing for a living possible and I owe everything to you all.

I've got clients on sub, feedback I'm compiling, a lot of reading to do, and somewhere in between all of that I do find a little writing time for myself. So I am super duper excited to let you see the cover for my latest new adult/adult romance novel, 12 Rounds.

YAY!

If you guys get a chance to check it out, here's the link to the goodreads page!

Sean (Right-Hook) Reilly
knows a few things about himself. One, he's the middle-weight boxing
champion of the world with an undefeated record. Two, women find his
cocky persona, chiseled biceps, and inked body sexy. Also, the fact that
it's known that he doesn't do relationships only adds to his sex
appeal. And three, he's Irish, proud of it, and a member of the
Braithreachas Don Saol, a branch of the Irish mafia and king pins of the
drug cartel taking over the streets of Cleveland.

Connor
Doyle(aka Connie) the boss and leader of the Braithreachas Don Saol, has
been like a father to Sean, taking him under his wing and teaching him
how to survive on the streets after the death of his parents. Sean has
never been ungrateful, but has always wanted one thing...

More.
More to live for. More to fight for. More to believe in. A chance at a
future without drugs or guns. A chance at a future without wondering
which day will be his last.

There's only one problem with that.
You live by the braithreachas. You die by the braithreachas. And Sean
knows whether Connie considers him to be family or not, the only way
he'll be leaving the braithreachas is in a body bag.

Hadlee Flax
has had a year to overcome her issues. After almost being raped and
brutalized, she's putting her best foot forward, seeing a therapist, and
has even(with some persuasion from her best friend, Lara) enrolled in
self defense classes. And she's doing well moving on with her life until
she meets the dark, and conflicted Irish boxing champion of the world,
Sean Reilly.

Hadlee is immediately drawn to the gorgeous, cold,
and mysterious man who speaks with a slight Irish brogue. She soon
learns that there is much more to him than his darkened gaze, cool
demeanor, and body covered in tattoos. He's not the type of man she
thought he was. And Hadlee finds herself doing something she never
thought she would do in the last year...

Falling for a guy.

Falling for Sean Reilly. A man who is on the path to becoming a boxing legend.

One
thing Hadlee doesn't know is the other part of Seans' life. His life of
drug running, and killing. Or the fact that when he's not boxing he's
walking the streets with a gat tucked into the back of his loose jeans,
and glancing over his shoulder at every turn.

But it doesn't take Hadlee long to learn that some attractions and relationships can be fatal.

1. I know that everyone who has read Insanity is anxiously awaiting the sequel, White Walls which is due out tomorrow.

But...

Sadly the release date has been pushed back. I know this is probably a total bummer, but sometimes things work out better this way.

2. I know this probably won't tide you over, but I've pasted a longer excerpt of White Walls below and I hope that you enjoy it.

The new release date is Monday June, 25, 2012 (This date is solid. It is NOT changing.)

White Walls Excerpt

My surroundings have
started to fade in and out of focus. The trees whirl around me in
circles. Browns, greens, and blacks. Browns, greens, and blacks. I
have to stop and place my arm against one of the trunks. I drop my
head, exhaling. The dizziness is overwhelming. I can't remember the
last time I ate or drank anything. I can't remember what day it is.

My entire body is
covered in beads of cold sweat and I've started hallucinating.

I groan softly and
try to lift my head. I don't have the strength to play his game right
now.

“Addy.”

“No!” I shout
and my voice trails, echoing as it travels along the cleared muddy
path. “Why are you doing this? Why?”

I try to lift my
head again and I succeed, but only to rest it in the crook of my
elbow. My eyes are on the ground and I notice a pair of brown shoes,
an added accessory to the forest debris along the path. My eyes
travel upward, taking in Damien's appearance. He doesn't look like
the Damien I was seeing when I was in Oakhill. He looks like he did
the last time I saw him. He looks the way he looked a second before
he died.

I suck in breath
that I can't release. My lips quivers at the sight of the dried blood
on his light blue button up. His skin is pale, his lips gray. And the
haunting, lifeless look in his blue eyes is too much to bear. I
blanch and look away. “No,” I cry. “No.”

He moves closer,
twigs snapping beneath his feet, followed by a rustling of dead
leaves. My body goes rigid. Panic flushes through my blood stream. I
can feel him right next me and his cold, rancid breath fans across my
face. I inhale then exhale quickly, gagging on the way he tastes,
like a dug up corpse. “What's the matter, Addy?” His fingers are
in my hair and his voice is eerie. Emotionless.

This is not my
Damien. This is not my Damien. This is not my Damien.

I repeat the words
in my head. This is not my Damien. He's a manifestation of my mind
similar to a nightmare. “Stop,” I whisper, thinking pleading
might actually work. I'm wrong.

The dead vision of
the love of my life laughs. The laugh isn't pleasant. It's dark, cold,
and evil. He pets my head and repeats his previous question, “What's
the matter, Addy?” His fingers feel like slime as they slide across
my skin. They keep sliding and sliding and they send a shiver of fear
down my spine. I shudder and use all the strength I have to pull away
from him. I stare into his dead eyes. “But I thought you loved me?”
His clammy grayish skin bunches on his forehead.

Yes. Loved is
the key word.

Will always
are another two.

There will always be
a part of me that loves him. There will always be a part of me that
remembers the Damien I met one summer on a dirt road in West Des
Moines, Iowa. The Damien who was beautiful, smart, caring, and funny.
The Damien who stole my heart, promised to love me forever, and had
plans for our future.

A future that was
cut short and killed by my evil, conflicted father.

I have since learned
that even though a part of me will always love him that doesn't mean
I can continue to love him the way I used to. Because he's dead. And
I can't go on loving a poltergeist for the rest of my life.

Personally I love it, but be sure to drop me a comment below and let me know what you think!

I've also included the playlist for White Walls below. I also just wanted to say that this book (actually, the whole trilogy) is written backwards and purposely done so. This book takes place during Adelaide's first visit to Oakhill, her escape, and showcases her relationship with Elijah(Dr. Watson). And yes...Damien comes along for part of the ride too.

What I'm most excited about though, is the opportunity to share a little snippet from the sequel to Insanity, White Walls.

If you've read Insanity, you know that this is a trilogy and the last book in the series will be Beautiful Nightmares. White Walls I assure you, is packed full of crazy, creepy, and plenty of swoon-worthy romance.

I hope you enjoy the teaser!

And be sure to check it out on June 19th!

White Walls Teaser!

In my head, I hear Mommy's voice.

There is no Daddy. It's like he never existed. It's always just me
and Mommy.

Me and Mommy.

Me and Mommy.

The sun drips into the horizon splashing colors of yellow, brown,
molten orange with fragmented hints of pink. The assortment of colors
fill my gaze and I close my eyes as a gust of cool wind blows
tendrils of black from my cheeks. Mommy stands behind me, pushing me
on the tire swing. She sings to me.

Softly.

Sweetly.

“Little bird, little bird, spread your wings and fly. Little
bird, little bird soar through the sky.” Her
voice is warm and harmonious as it flits through the air. The sound
of it brings me so much joy.

“Mommy,” I giggle with a grin and glance at her over my shoulder.

She smiles back at me. The smile touches her violet eyes, and there's
a flush of pink in her pale cheeks. “I love you, little bird.”

“I'm sorry little bird.” Mommy catches the tire swing by the rope
handles and places her lips against my ear. I can feel her skin
resting against mine. Her flesh is cold. Clammy. Dead. “I'll always
love you, Adelaide. Now be good and fly away,” she whispers. Her
voice isn't warm anymore. It's scratchy, raspy, and ragged.

“I want you to fly with me, Mommy. Please,” I beg her in my tiny
voice and choke on a sob lodged in my throat. “Please Mommy.”

I face her and rest my forehead against the rope. The sky darkens,
the bright colors evaporate, and raindrops that look like ashes float
down from the heavens, coating the dead brown and yellow grass in our
front yard. Mommy walks backwards, slowly. Wobbly. I try to run after
her, but an invisible force straps my thighs to the swing. Thrashing,
I contort the upper half of my body as far as I can. Pain stabs at my
heart and I cry out for her one last time. “Mommy! No!”

The woman I see behind me isn't my mommy. The woman behind me has
skin that's melting away from her bones, all dull, gray, and
lifeless. Her vibrant violet eyeballs are bulging from her head, and
tiny droplets of blood drip from her sockets.

I scream.

I sob.

I shake.

Out of fear and out of pain.

The woman behind me begins to disintegrate. Her skin melts away from
her muscles and organs and turns to ash when it hits the ground.
She's open, exposed, and I can see her heart pounding. I hear her
life-force thumping. Ba boom. Ba boom. Seconds later the
pinkish, red organs' steady beat slows before the organ itself
shrivels into a deep crimson colored rock and falls out of her chest.
Dropping my head into my small hands, I cry quietly to myself. The
woman behind me is not my mommy.

No...

The woman behind me is nothing but a corpse.

Just to be clear, I wanted to address the genre of Insanity and it's sequels. So many people think this is YA. It is not. It is far too graphic in some areas to be considered YA. And it was never intended to be YA. It's actually a New Adult novel as are the sequels.

I'd just like to thank all of you who've been involved with this novel! It has been one of my favorites to write and you will definitely be seeing a lot more of Addy, Damien, and Dr. Watson soon in the sequel, White Walls.

I try to do my posts early in the morning, but I've decided to do something different for the release of Insanity. I truly feel blessed and am grateful for every single person who reads one of my books. So I wanted to give something back to my readers. So I racked my brain to come up with something good to do for Insanity that would give the readers a say.

And here it is...

I have not put up a cover. I'm sure most of you that have added it on goodreads know this; and here's why...

Morning readers!
As most of you know, I have a few new novels coming out soon!
Infect Me will be released from Curiosity Quills press soon.(I'm still working on edits from my wonderful editor.)

But....
Insanity my twisted, new adult, romantic suspense novel is the next book of mine to be released!

Whoot! Whoot!
Honestly, I don't know why I'm drawn to writing tortured love stories, but for some reason it's something I excel at.
So I'm super excited to let you get a little taste of what you're in for when you read Insanity.

Also, I don't know about you guys, but I listen to a lot of music when I write. For some reason, it calms me... really puts me into the character's head.
I have an extremely eclectic taste when it comes to music... I love anything and everything... so I thought it would be fun if I let you see the playlist for Insanity before you read chapter 1.

I remember my first night here.
I remember the flickering lights on the ceiling that reminded me of bug zappers. The disenchanting vibe that was set from the way the dim lights danced along the neutral colored walls. More than anything, I remember the way they dragged me in here. Two orderly's, dressed from head to toe in white, clutching my elbows and escorting me down the darkened hall, barefoot and sobbing, dirt and blood caked up and ratted through my midnight colored locks, and smeared around the edges of my lime green dress.
I'd screamed in hysteria.
Cried with devotion.
And kicked with conviction.
They led me to a sanitation area, ripped my clothes from my body, then hosed me down like a pig before it was sent to the slaughterhouse. A bar of soap whacked me in the side of the head after an orderly chucked it at me and told me to wash myself. I was too afraid to do anything. Too afraid to move. So when I sat there for five minutes, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe, legs and arms twitching with spasms. Finally, out of impatience and anger the orderly stomped over and washed me instead.
I'd never felt more hopeless, more pitiful, or ever felt violated in a dirty kind of way.
After my seven-minute shower, without letting me dry off, they plastered a hospital gown on my wet body and led me to my room. Freezing, I'd shivered, teeth chattering, and pumped warmth back into my body with friction from my hands. Nauseous, I swallowed the vomit inching up the back of my throat. Numb, I stared blankly ahead, unable to concentrate. I remembered thinking; if they kill people at this place, I hope they kill me soon.
They put me in solitary confinement. A small shoebox of a room with padded walls. They strapped me into a straightjacket. I fought the restraints. I screamed for help. I kicked one of the orderlies in the jaw.
You're a danger to yourself and others, they told me.
This is for your own good, your safety, they told me.
Here's the first thing I've learned since I arrived at the Oak Hill, Asylum; when everyone thinks you're crazy, no one is going to listen to you. Either that or they'll make you their own personal pincushion and fill your veins with the kind of tranquilizing medicine they use on horses.
That night, my first night here, I'd shrieked all night long, tucked in a ball on my small thin cot, sobbing harder than I've ever sobbed before.
The funny thing is; I haven't stopped since then.
Three weeks.
It has been three weeks.
I still don't know why I'm here.
What did I do to wind up in this place?
I ask myself this question multiple times every day and I can never find the answer.
Sometimes I hear a familiar voice in my head. Daddy's voice. “You stay out of her head, you little fucker. You stay out of her bed, you little fucker.”
But who is the little fucker?
My daddy was a bad man. He was best friends with Jimmy, Jack, and a Mexican named Jose. He liked to drink with his three best friends. Sometimes he'd even get piss ass drunk with them. On rare occasions he was nice; usually when his friends weren't around. Sometimes he even led me to believe he loved me. I think.
When I was little, Daddy used to push me on a tire swing he'd made me. I'd tell him how I'd want to be a bird, a canary, because canaries are pretty and yellow and have beautiful singing voice's. Mommy was around then and she always thought it was funny that I'd talk about canaries. “And where would you fly my little bird,” she'd say kissing the top of my head with a chuckle.
Then I'd reply with, “I'd fly to the moon.”
Mommy, Daddy, and me laughed.
We were a happy family.
Until one day, I woke up and Mommy was gone.
And Daddy was never the same.
His friends used to come home with him occasionally, and after a while they came home with him every day. I asked myself every day where my old daddy went and thought about how bad I wanted him back.
But I never saw my old daddy again. He left me, just like Mommy did.
I didn't like my new daddy. One time, I'd just looked at him, giving him a sad look, tears glistening in my violet eyes. He'd looked back at me and for a second I thought I might catch a glimpse of my old daddy. He'd stood up from his reclining chair, walked to me, and towered over me, squinting down at me. I'd opened my mouth to tell Daddy how much I loved him and that I missed my old daddy and he's said, “You look just like that whore mother of yours.”
And then he slapped me across the face.
That treatment continued for the next eight years, but I'd learned to be quiet, keep to myself. I'd learned to keep away from Daddy and obey him. Because I knew what would happen if I didn't.
Then one night, Daddy's friends were over and Daddy had a little too much of them for one night. Daddy's friends made him do crazy things sometimes. That night, the night they brought me in here, Daddy pulled out his rifle, aimed it...
BANG!
Then everything goes black and the shrieking begins.
Plodding footsteps drown out the sound of my screams.
I try and tell myself to stop screaming, but its like my mind and emotions are at war with one another. Before I know it, the door to my cell swings open.
Four people.
There are four people approaching me, arms outstretched cautiously like I am some wild, ravenous beast in need of capturing.
Four people.
I have nothing to defend myself with except for two arms, two legs, and a sharp mind.
But four to one?
I am severely outnumbered. This is a battle I am going to lose. Still, even though I know I'll be defeated, determination pumps through me. I have never been the type to go down without a fight. Perhaps that's why I spent the last eight years letting my daddy beat me within an inch of my life. I never wanted to give him the satisfaction of knowing that every time his fist connected with my jaw he didn't mentally break me.
Darting from my bed, I start for the door. Swimming hands swallow me and capture me in a net of firmness before carrying me back over to my cot. Thrashing my arms, I backhand a nurse, knocking the cap off her head and she grips the rounded collar of my hospital gown, cutting off my air supply for a second.
“Hold her down!” At the doctor's instruction a heavy-set nurse digs her kneecap into the small of my back and presses down.
No! Don't hold me down! Set me free! I don't belong here!
“No!” My voice is raspy and raw and dry, full of pent up fear and anger. “No!” I try to swat at someone behind me, but the two orderlies pin my arms to my cot. Wiggling, I try to free myself from their grasp, but the nurse with her knee in my back puts all over her weight on me, shooting shivers of pain down my spine and immobilizing me.
“Calm down,” my doctor says. He has a soft, soothing voice, but its deadly.
I peek through stands of my ebony hair, watching the sweet, sweet mind-erasing fluid spout from the tip of the needle like a fountain. The drug speaks to me. Forget who you are. Forget where you are. Forget why you were brought here. Forget everything. I won't let them make me forget. I won't let them neutralize me and turn me into one of their empty robots.
I won't. I won't. I won't.
“Keep still, Adelaide. This won't hurt. You'll only feel a pinch.”
But that pinch will dilute everything.
I panic, screaming louder, and thrash as hard as I can. The orderlies in front of me grip my wrists harder and I can see one clearly through my strands of unwashed hair. Thick black hair, blue blue eyes, and toasted almond skin. He doesn't look at me like the chubby one with pale, ashy hair next to him is looking at me. He's not looking at me like I'm crazy. He's looking at me like he feels sorry for me. Like he wants to take me away from this gloomy prison and hide me from the doctors with needles and metronomes.
Please, blue eyes.
Save me.
Be my prince charming.
My knight in shining armor.
Rescue me from a burning tower of depression, sadness, and misery.
He doesn't.
The needle plunges into my skin and I let out a whimper. The drug blasts through my veins and infiltrates my bloodstream, shutting every organ inside of me down for the night. Widening my eyes, I fight off the effects of the drug as it works its way through my body. I clench my fists defiantly, trying to scream again, but I'm too weak, too tired, and too over taken by the drugs to do anything but moan inaudibly.
I hear the doctor. “Just wait until it takes full effect.” His voice is muffled, fading away, pretty soon I can't hear him at all anymore. I think my door closes.
There's a ringing in my ears that I can't shut out. There's a hand on my wrist that doesn't let go. Before exhaustion takes over I look up. Blue eyes is at the end of the bed. He releases my wrist and laces his fingers through mine. I squint as the sedative blurs my vision, begins to decapitate my mind, and then notice the painful look in those blue blue eyes.
On top of the pain in the two blue gems there's familiarity.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
How could I forget him? Him, of all people. The one person in the entire world who holds the key to my heart. The one and only person who has ever really loved me.
Then I remind myself that they feed and inject me with so many drugs, that its a miracle I don't forget who I am.
I struggle to sound coherent, “Damien?”
He mouths something.
Six words.
Six words that seem too impossible to be true.
Six words that bleed hope into my soul.
Six words.
“You're not crazy. I love you.”

I had this super fun idea for a post last week, but I'll get to that in a sec.

First I wanted to take a poll from the readers who've read, He Loves Me...He Loves You Not...

So, I've been toying with the notion of rewriting. No... Not completely rewriting, but writing a second addition and adding Henry's POV to it. I've asked a few people who have read it and some say, "No don't!" While others say, "That might be interesting to read."

Truthfully, I love Henry. He's one of my favorite characters. Part of me thinks he deserves to tell his story. So in the end, I want to know what the readers think. What about Henry? Would you want to read his POV?

Now on to the fun part of today's post?

How many of you watch or listen to comedians?

Personally I love some of the ones that incorporate stuff like this into their acts.

You might be a (insert word here) if....

So I thought, how fun would that be if we did that for today's post? Let's face it. We all draw our inspirations from different places.

And...

If you're adult, sometimes its difficult to find yourself in the teen mind-frame when writing a YA novel. We might think we know what the current trends are in the world of teenagers, but that's not always the case.

Now on to the fun part. Here's how I dip into the teenage mind, lol.

You might be a YA writer if...

1. You casually eavesdrop on a conversation between some bubbly teenage girls while skimming the sales rack at Forever 21. Then you ask yourself,"Did she just say fugly?" Hmm... Fugly? Is that even a word? Maybe I can use that somewhere.

2. You observe your teenage brother with his dudes while they play basketball to catch up on current teenage boy speak.(I have to say, that from doing this I've learned that teenage boys lingo is totally and completely different from teenage girls.)

3. Google becomes your best friend and you've been sitting in front of your computer for the last hour typing in searches like; fashion trends for teens. (Yes, I have done this, lol.)

Now, some of you are in the beginning stages of the query process and some of you are all ready agented so you don't have to worry about this stage at all.

But...

You never know when a few helpful tips might come in handy.

Do's

1. Be informative, but describe the novel in no more than three paragraphs.

Look, here's the thing, and I don't know if this is just me or other agents feel the same way, but I don't want to read a book about you explaining your entire story from beginning to end. Paragraphs in a query should be short, simple, and to the point.

2. Always tell the agent a little bit about yourself.

So you're a member of three great writing groups? Have a degree in Creative Writing? Have a platform? Yeah. We want to know that stuff.

And me personally, I want to know just how many projects you've written.

3. Be professional.

But I'm pretty sure most of you know how to do that. :)

Don'ts

1. Do not. I repeat do not... Tell me that you're the next J.K. Rowling.

This is my number one query pet peeve. I dislike query letters to begin with. I don't like to read them. I think a lot of writers have trouble with them. And 99.9 percent of the time, I skip the query portion and read the writing that's pasted into the email first.

BUT....

If I do happen to skim the query line and see something like that, its an instant rejection for me. First off, its great that you're confident in your skills, I mean it really is, but how much is too much? THAT is too much.

2. If you receive a rejection, do not write back with a snappy, unprofessional letter.

I don't know about other agents, but I avoid rejection letters as long as possible because I don't like writing them. I feel like a giant dream crusher. I know how hard writers work on their craft. How much time they put in. The passion and emotion that's involved. And I wish I could sign everyone that queries me, but sadly, I can't.

Sometimes you might think you're ready to begin querying, but you're not. And all it will take is a little more time, hard work, and perseverance before you should begin building that query letter, perfecting it, and then sending it out. Don't ever be in a rush. Take it from me, I used to be that way. But, I have since learned my lesson and also learned to take a step back, breathe, and take my time on things.

In the end, that will show in your work. And the reader or agent will able to see it to.

I've been away from the blogger world due to some family things, but I'm excited to be back with this post!

Because this post is about WIP's. Yay!

Lately, I'd been in a writing slump. Mainly because of all of things that had been going on in my personal life, but I'm excited to say that I've found my voice again. And I can't even begin to express how good that feels.

It's amazing.

Transcendent.

Glorious.

So I'm going to share a little piece of my new WIP with you. I'm actually super excited because this will be my first adult romance novel, that and... It's hot, steamy, and spine tingling at the same time.

So here is a teaser for my latest WIP- Insanity(Asylum 1)

I panic, screaming louder, and thrash as hard as I can. The orderly’s in front of me grip my wrists harder and I can see one clearly through my strands of unwashed hair. Thick black hair, blue blue eyes, and toasted almond skin. He doesn't look at me like the chubby one with pale, ashy hair next to him is looking at me. He's not looking at me like I'm crazy. He's looking at me like he feels sorry for me. Like he wants to take me away from this gloomy prison and hide me from the doctors with needles and metronomes.

Please, blue eyes.

Save me.

Be my prince charming.

My knight in shining armor.

Rescue me from a burning tower of depression, sadness, and misery.

He doesn't.

The needle plunges into my skin and I let out a whimper. The drug blasts through my veins and infiltrates my bloodstream, shutting every organ inside of me down for the night. Widening my eyes, I fight off the effects of the drug as it works its way through my body. I clench my fists defiantly, trying to scream again, but I'm too weak, too tired, and too over taken by the drugs to do anything but moan inaudibly.

I hear the doctor. “Just wait until it takes full effect.” His voice is muffled, fading away, pretty soon I can't hear him at all anymore. I think my door closes.

There's a ringing in my ears that I can't shut out. There's a hand on my wrist that doesn't let go. Before exhaustion takes over I look up. Blue eyes is at the end of the bed. He releases my wrist and laces his fingers through mine. I squint as the sedative blurs my vision, begins to decapitate my mind, and then notice the painful look in those blue blue eyes.

Today's post is about emotions and how what you're feeling can affect your characters.

I don't know about you guys, but I'm big on emotions and feelings when it comes to my writing.

Professionally too.

As an agent and reader, I want to be able to feel your character. I want to cry with them. Laugh with them. And fall in love with them. Unfortunately some writers fall flat on conveying the emotions needed to make a novel work. Granted, every one who reads a book has a different opinion and approaches the novel with a different view, but ultimately I think this true for everyone, we all want to feel something when we read.

Now, we all know that we are not our characters. We all know that even though we create them, that they have their own personalities and they we as the writer might not do some of the things they do, but I do think it is important for writers to ask themselves a few things when trying to breathe emotional life into our characters and here are few tips that help me.

1. What mannerisms, actions, smells, or even tastes affect my character? What does it remind them of?

2. Strong characters vs. Weak characters. Honestly I don't care what anybody says I find redeeming qualities in both types of characters. You know why? Because they're relate-able. No two human beings are alike.Some are stronger than others. Some are weaker. But what's important when breathing life into the type of character is authenticity. A weak, type of character wouldn't do some of the things a strong type of character would do, so its important to know which type of character you're writing and stick to that.

3. Feelings. This is sooo important. I ask myself 'how would this make Hadley feel'? (Hadley happens to be the MC in the adult romance I'm currently working on so I'm using her as an example.)How does a look, a touch, a kiss, a smell, make her feel? What kind of things make her happy, sad, disgusted...etc. I could go on with that list forever.

In closing I'm sure most of you understand how to effectively convey emotion in your characters, but I hope some of these tips help you if you don't.

Famished ebook!!!!

About this blog

I treat others how I would want to be treated.
I love a good book more than anything else.
I'm overly enthusiastic.
I prefer to think about the positive things in life instead of the negative.
I'm extremely loyal.
I dislike liars. (strongly) Honesty is always the best policy.
I love old movies.